Mirage
by Kiri-koli
Summary: --Working Title--Mainly, but not exclusively, about Kurt and original char. Xavier considers the next step in accomplishing his Dream, though unknown forces work against him. Meanwhile, events lead Kurt to question his role in the lives of his teammates
1. Prologue

Author's New Note: Ahhh...the wonders of decent editing. Though I can't, for the life of me, figure out why it won't let me put some of my song lyrics without spaces! AHHHH!! Well, thanks to Funness for not minding the little s, but if people are actually reading this, I want my italics!

So, it's been...over two years? So I was...carry the five...sixteen? Ah, no wonder this sucks. Well, anydangway, I did actually have a whole plot for this story but I think I'm going to finish _One of Us_ first (or ever) because...I like it better. And because this story is a shameful self-insertion. In which I babble. In long unending paragraphs. 

Anyway, usually disclaimers, blah, blah, blah. The song is "Everything's Not Lost" by Coldplay and yes, they really did use chocolate syrup in the shower scene in Psycho. This isn't any traditional version of X-Men: Evolution cuz...I was stupid and thought I would tweak it. It's kind of a mix betwixt Evolution and movieverse because I wanted the Statue of Liberty incident in there and I hate Logan from Evo, so deal. Please? 

Maybe I'll get back to this if lots and lots of people read _One of Us_ and give pretty reviews. 

And without further ado:

Mirage

_Prologue_   


_"When I counted up my demons_

_Saw there was one for every day_

_Put the good ones on my shoulder_

_Drove the other ones away…"_

I was singing before I even stepped into the shower. I couldn't help it. There was something about the imminent hum of the rushing water, the cool pattering against smooth tile that woke a beat within that only served to compliment my heart and spur on my voice.

I wasn't a bad singer, I guess. I was good at imitation and improvisation, at highs and lows, at singing, humming, pretending I had a set of drums with my teeth…oh yes, do I love the beat. And right now I felt as though I could overcome the discomfiture that usually accompanied any sort of audience and tell the world through song and dance just how damn good I felt.

However, unfortunately—or probably fortunately—the only people around who might have heard were doing the same as I: getting ready for an elegant night of wining and dining in celebration.

The reason was simple and not even mine. Well, sort of mine. Junior year was over, finally, and I could not have been happier to escape _that_ particular hell. Three months were mine, all mine and they promised to be spectacular.

What with the money now flowing.

_"So if you ever feel neglected_

_If you think that all is lost_

_I'll be counting up my demons…yeah…_

_Hoping everything's not lost…" _

I used the pause in the song, filled by the wonderful feel of warm H2O over my bare skin, to giggle. It was a righteous giggle and one of the things that I would remember. My father, a noted lawyer, had rightly put that bastard away for making the children scream and had made partner for it. We could pay off our beautiful white house and spend a glorious two-week vacation in Australia with just the beginning of the green rush.

Reluctantly, I realized that my 15 minutes were up and if I didn't vacate my warm retreat I would never be ready on time. I stepped into a gush of cold air and mist and looked at the mirror.

Another of the things I would remember so vividly. Too impatient to wait for the full-sized reflection to clear, I peered through the beaded water and studied myself in all the clarity of invisible air. I would remember thinking, like I did every so often, that I might just possibly be almost pretty. From certain angles, of course.

I was a study of the average. At 5'7", I was neither tall nor short and my 130 lbs made me not fat, but never skinny. My shoulder-length hair was a sleek black that would fade as it dried to a dark brown. My eyes matched my hair, though I preferred to think of them as the color of milk chocolate. I had long, black eyelashes and thick eyelids that gave me an almost solemn look, even when I smiled. Most people would take one look at me, with my long face and blood red lips and my too-big nose and not-quite-sunken eyes and automatically assume I was pissed off.

Even my friends did this, which, ironically, did piss me off and then I would yell at them and they'd smile like they had been right all the while.

Bastards.

But I digress. I smiled for myself, sucked in my stomach and pretended like I had a proportionate figure. It didn't work, but this was me and I wouldn't have changed a thing.

I would remember that too.

_"Hoping everything's not lost…" _

I dried my hair, gave it that "piec-y look" and quickly dressed before heading downstairs. I was determined not to be the last one ready. I usually wasn't, but the stereotype followed me anyway, especially with my family. My family, who I had the odd feeling was going to be okay from now on.

Everyone was downstairs already. Just my luck. My parents' door was open, as was my brother's. I sighed and started down towards the landing, though I paused on the second to last step, admiring the streaming photons that danced through a large window, watched one in particular as it tangled itself up with a bit of lace.

I laughed softly and a strangled sound answered me. I frowned. "Mom?" I called out tentatively, knowing that she would probably call back in an irritated voice like she always did when she was disturbed for no good reason.

No answer.

I edged slowly down the steps, knowing exactly where to go without making them creak. There was an ominous silence in the house, though it was probably my imagination. Of course it was. I was seventeen, my brother fourteen and we had never been loud kids anyway…

Soft light rebounded off glistening white walls and a glimmer of a green plant played with my peripheral vision. I rounded the corner to the kitchen and stopped dead.

Drowning in red. I remember blood creeping along the white tiles and thinking of Psycho and chocolate syrup. I remember wondering, as if a million miles from myself, if the blood belonged to my father—sprawled unconscious on the floor—or to the dead form of the puppy I had had since I was three. I remember wondering if my mother was thinking the same thing, worried about her husband, her children…all of the above to judge by the horror in her familiar chocolate gaze.

My brother whimpered. One of the men was holding him with a pistol in his neck and my brother…he just couldn't help himself. I watched, one eye on the boy who had looked up to me for all those years, the other recognizing the black form of death that the other man had in his hands.

_A bomb_, some cold part of my mind informed me. _Better do what he says._

It was then that I realized the man with the bomb was yelling at me, yelling at me to join my brother and keep quiet. I hadn't moved. The man with my brother growled and his hand twitched.

And then he shot my brother.

He. Shot. My. Brother.

My mother's screams mingled with my own. I lunged forward—tripped, really—in blind rage but I was too far, across the great expanse that was, in that last second, still my kitchen.

The first man yelled that this was for Paul and the voices that couldn't be silenced, the voices of terror. There was a soft beep…

…and the world exploded.

_"Hoping everything's not lost…"_

* * *

_The scene here this morning is one of confusion and chaos. It is said that suicidal friends of Paul DeMane, the terrorist recently sentenced to death in Chicago, decided to take out their anger on William Corelle, the accomplished lawyer that participated in DeMane's trial and ultimately won him his fate. It is confirmed that William, his wife Amber and son Brian are dead in the explosion that flattened the Corelle home and several of their neighbors'. Five others are confirmed dead and seven have been rushed to the hospital…there is some debate as to whether Corelle's daughter was at home at the time of the tragedy and a search has been organized. However, as you can see behind me, we may never know as all that remains of this once prosperous family is ashes…_

_This is Cindy Mendel, reporting…_


	2. Baseball and Blue Boys

"So, Charles, what do you think?"

Professor Charles Xavier placed a thoughtful finger on his lips and looked up at David Stewart, the newest New York Senator to grace Washington and one of his oldest acquaintances. "I must admit that your plan is intriguing…"

David beamed.

"…however, I believe it best that the mutant community in general, and this school in particular, keep a low profile for the time being."

"How can it? Really?" David returned, sitting on the corner of Charles's desk. "I mean, I know you made deals about the Statue of Liberty incident but all it takes is one person, _one person_, to blow things out of proportion. Senator Kelly has already suggested that you have something to hide…now, I'm not suggesting that he's right, you know me better than that Charles. Mutant registration is wrong, but there is nothing wrong with securing how you look in the public eye!"

By now, David was pacing about the room, his eyes gleaming. Charles quirked a small smile. "Senator Kelly seems to no longer be a problem."

David paused and faced his friend. "He is not the end, only the beginning and you know it, Charles."

The Professor sighed and adjusted his wheelchair so that he could easily escort the Senator outside. "I will think about what you have said."

David Stewart smiled. "That's all I ask."

* * *

"But I do not want to go!"

"For once, I agree with the Elf," Logan added, for all the good it would do. He turned his attention back to the unlit cigar in his hand and ignored the look that Scott Summers threw his way.

"What do you have against baseball?"

"Not a damn thing, One-Eye," Logan returned, looking up just in time to see Jean hide a smile behind her hand. She was standing next to Scott, of course, but that didn't stop him from responding with a sly wink. A giggle escaped from the redhead and Logan would have sworn he could hear Scott's teeth grinding even from across the room. Perhaps the game would be fun, after all.

Logan lit his cigar and imagined Scott glaring at him from behind reflective ruby quartz. The latter opened his mouth to issue a loud protest, but Logan interrupted.

"Fine, I'll go."

The room went dead silent as everyone turned to gape at him. Jean and Ororo both hid smiles, Scott and Bobby frowned, Jubilee snapped her gum. Kurt Wagner stared as if he had just been stabbed in the back and Kitty flocked to his side. "Please, Kurt? It'll be fun! We all need a little fun after all that's been going on around here."

"But, but…Katzchen! The inducer, what if it fails?" Kurt looked forlornly at the seemingly innocent wristwatch that just _had_ to like playing with his nerves.

"Please?" Big brown eyes met yellow, and Kurt's tail twitched as if irritated. Still, he smiled and muttered, "Ja, I'll go." Kitty grinned and hugged him before dragging him bodily out to the car. The group laughed and started to file out the door.

Jean lingered behind, waiting for Scott. He smiled at her and then looked out the door. "Think there's anything there?"

"Between Kitty and Kurt?" Scott nodded. "I don't know…I mean, I think they're just good friends."

Scott looked out the door and nodded again. Jean turned to face him and saw herself. She looked away. _And you?_ she prodded gently.

Scott looked thoughtful for a moment and then grinned. "Just friends," he repeated, making the "ladies first" gesture towards the door. Jean grabbed his hand and pulled him into the sunlight.

* * *

"And that way he forces the man onto the next base!" Bobby finished with a flourish. He was standing—grinning like an idiot--in the stands of Yankee Stadium. Jubilee was beside him, yelling impossibly loud over the crowd. Scott and Jean were holding hands and Logan was scowling.

"Nein, I still don't get it," Kurt said with a shake of his head. He had spent most of the game watching himself rather than the players, ever since his image inducer had sputtered during the first inning. He was waiting for tanned skin to go to blue fur and nervously listening to Bobby try and calm him down by explaining the nuances of Baseball. He probably would have gotten it if he started looking at everything the blonde was pointing at.

Bobby Drake deflated besides him, giving an exasperated sigh and glaring at Kurt. When the response was an innocent smile, he reached over and poked the elf. Kitty giggled and started tickling from the left. Kurt shrieked, attacked from both sides and with no chance of teleporting. Soon the three of them were a giggling heap with Logan yelling at them to shut up.

Ororo smiled and watched the three of them settle down. Bobby joined Jubilee in her cheers and Kitty left to get drinks for everyone. Kurt alone remained sitting, looking uncomfortable, almost as if he were brooding. If she could have seen it, Ro was sure his tail would have been twitching like mad.

The storm goddess leaned forward. They were in the upper stands, slightly separated from the crowds. Being claustrophobic as she was, Storm had requested that they be under the sky and away from the thickest of the crowd. Logan had grumbled, but it was done. Storm smiled and tapped Kurt on the shoulder.

He jumped and the inducer sputtered in protest. Storm saw a flash of blue and frowned. "Perhaps you should go for a walk," she suggested carefully.

Kurt nodded and started making his way towards the tall cement entryway. He soon lost the crowds and breathed a sigh of relief. The farther he walked, the more barren the stadium became, a large tomb of arching supports and dull gray walls. He walked till he saw no one and then sat down on a nearby bench.

His inducer sputtered and Kurt swore at it in German. Sighing, he asked the air, "Just how long can this stupid game last anyway?"

"About two hours."

Kurt jumped and swore again. This was definitely not turning out to be his day. He peered into the shadows, looking for whoever had spoken. It was there, close enough to be seen, but still cloaked in darkness, and from the voice, female. He stood and she seemed to hover, as if trying to decide whether or not to come out.

Peeking down revealed that his inducer was still on and Kurt was puzzled by her hesitation. He stepped forward, trying his best to be casual. "I came out here for some air. Baseball isn't my favorite sport in the world." The words sounded lame to him but at least he was trying. She didn't answer and the silence stretched. He gave a nervous smile and tried again.

"I was just—"

"Do you have money?" she interrupted, startling Kurt into silence. He gaped and she repeated the question, this time speaking slowly as if he was a child. Or perhaps she was just having trouble forcing the words out...

* * *

He was cute. That was the first thing I noticed and it was…startling. Not that I wasn't the type to notice cute guys, I was…I had just never been a drooling, cover-my-ceiling-in-posters kind of girl. And it was such a _normal_ thing to notice that, frankly, it frightened me.

It had been a long time since I had felt normal.

So he was cute, in a very innocent sort of way. From his expression to his eyes to the nervous way his tail was flicking around…was he scared of me? Of being discovered?

The latter seemed probable, from the way his…was it a hologram? Well, whatever it was, it was flickering every once in a while. I pretended not to notice, studying his features. Blue. How odd, how…familiar. The pointed ears were a nice touch. I opened my mouth to make a subtle joke about it, wondering just how nervous I could get him before he bolted.

"Do you have money?"

Classic could-have-kicked-myself situation. Did I really do that? Did I really just ask him if he had anything worth stealing? He looked stunned and betrayed and even cuter, more innocent than before. I was sorely tempted to just walk away but my stomach had other ideas. It growled loudly and I stepped from the shadows and waited for him to gasp.

To his credit, he made not a sound. I knew what I looked like. After all, I had designed it, made myself look as pathetic as possible. My brown hair was dull and lifeless, my eyes big like a puppy's. I looked like a twig, starved and broken. At first, I had hated deceiving people on such a fundamental level, but now the lie was so damn close to the truth that it made no difference.

His yellow eyes were filled with pity. I wanted it and hated it. I craved it and loathed it.

_Get on with it, bitch._

I expected him to run as I neared. I was going fast enough to appease my stomach but slow enough for him to have an easy get-away. I expected him to flee or attack me or call the police…

He didn't move.

* * *

Kurt stared at the young woman as she neared him. She was that, a young woman, behind the starved body and the warring expressions. There was something…something in her eyes, an intelligence, a depth that said she was above this, above stealing, above a petty existence and that life was trying its best to prove her wrong.

He knew perfectly well what she wanted. He knew that he could get away in a heartbeat even if she suddenly decided that nothing in the world was going to stop her from taking whatever he might have.

"Do you like McDonald's?" he blurted. She stopped and blinked. Encouraged, Kurt went on, "I saw one a little way down the street…my treat, of course." He cut off and felt like bashing his head against the nearest wall.

But she didn't look offended or scared or confused…if anything, the slight way her head tilted to the side and the brief smile that touched her lips suggested that she was…intrigued.


	3. Fries and Freud

Kurt watched the stranger that sat across from him carefully. He realized now that what he had done was stupid…that he could have been totally wrong about her. She could still freak out on him, especially if his inducer started being stupid. She could definitely be desperate.

But he was a man of honor and kept his word. She ordered a hamburger, fries, and a McFlurry. It wasn't much, for someone looking as starved as she. He hid his surprise and she hid any expression at all. They sat down in silence, save for the occasional crunchy fry.

And then it started. Kurt didn't know where it came from, he just started talking. Words spilled from inside him about everything, his life, his frustrations. Of course, everything was vague and he naturally changed all the facts and didn't mentioned any of it as mutant related, but still, here he was, pouring out his heart to a complete stranger.

"I mean, there's so much between all of them. So many complications. And I just…I feel left out. And when they try to include me, it isn't in anything…anything that really matters. How can you live with people for any real length of time and still manage to feel like a stranger? These people are my friends…but it's just…it's not…you know? I feel so frustrated. One of them constantly underestimates me, the other always makes fun and I can't tell if he respects me or…"

This went on for some time. It wasn't like Kurt but then he really hadn't been himself for the last couple of days. It was like drowning in a shadow, floundering towards the light and never quite feeling like you'll ever get there. The others had assumed he was depressed like anyone else, over the recent mutant activities and the government's proposed crackdowns…but he knew that wasn't it. What it was, he couldn't explain, but he was sure as hell trying now.

She didn't answer. He wasn't even sure she was hearing a word he said. Well, he kept talking anyway. Perhaps he would stumble upon something if he said it all out loud…

Fifteen minutes later, Kurt was not only depressed but thoroughly immersed in the world of self-pity. He forced himself to stop talking. The woman was done eating now and she seemed to be trying to decide what to do.

* * *

I was trying not to scream. The food was a good distraction, but not good enough. And he just wouldn't stop…

I was consumed by déjà vu. Once upon a time, I had had a friend. A best friend. And she had had clinical depression.

For three years, I had been her shoulder to cry on. I wasn't the type, far from it. I had survived—and so had she, she once told me—because I took a healthy dive into the world of psychology.

It's a fascinating subject, really. I don't pretend to be an expert—well, I do, but I'd deny it if asked—but if you know the basics, it's surprisingly easy to sound like you know what you're talking about and then just _babble_.

So: to say something or not to say something. That is the question.

Damn you, Hamlet.

I stopped eating. He stopped talking. He looked at me, I choked. Lovely.

He stood up.

"It sounds like you need a friend."

He gave me such an odd look that I just had to start laughing. I gestured and he sat back down. "A real friend," I elaborated.

"I have friends," he said slowly. I shook my head.

"From what I can tell, you have _family_, not friends. Family is funny like that. Blood has nothing to do with it. I define family as a bunch of people you are with because that's where life took you. You didn't pick them. You didn't slowly realize that they were people just like you, people you could really identify with or people you clicked with. You just kinda fell into them. You're with them, but they don't understand you."

I was on a roll now, and like Blue-Boy before me, I just kept going. It didn't matter if I made sense. Debates are fun—sometimes _especially_ if you barely make sense. "See, everyone places family above friends. They think that by being family, you have something special, a bond, a loyalty. Well, maybe you do. Or maybe growing up with a certain group of people just does that, whether you were born with them or not. And sometimes it doesn't. Personally, I think friends are much more important than a family you don't identify with and it pisses me off that lovers eventually get married and are considered family. I mean, come on! They have to have been friends first, then lovers, or the marriage won't last. Even though through marriage, they are family.

"You're with these people because fate brought you there. But you haven't found your niche yet. You can be with them, they can be your family, but you need someone else too. You need a friend who completes you. Someone who may not understand but listens anyway. Someone who can tell when _you_ need something. Not like this Kitty person. I mean even your choice of aliases says something about her. Kittens are only out for themselves. Cats are solitary creatures that want attention when they want it. Never when it suits someone else."

He was blushing. It was an interesting effect, making him almost purple. And the hologram thing blushed too. Very high-class technology.

I was smiling, happy with my analysis. This wasn't the first time I had thought about this, what with my irrational hatred of most of my family.

Family. Hm. Why was I so comfortable using that word all of the sudden? I frowned and he frowned and I shut up.

I opened my mouth to say something, but he caught my eyes and held them.

"Danke," he said softly. And then he smiled. The effect on my stomach was rather interesting. It leapt and flipped as if on a high-wire act, crashing with my voice box and rendering me almost speechless.

"N-n-no, t-thank you." I managed. "For t-the meal." And one kinky grin later, I was out the door.


End file.
